


Accessories (and Cute Boy) Not Included

by Swanny_Writer



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, HAPPY JUNDAY, Happy Birthday to the most wonderful little bean, M/M, and just as i predicted it's late, anyway i hope it lives up to your expectations XD, but at its still 9th where i am so it should count right?, soft wonhui
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 08:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11158383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swanny_Writer/pseuds/Swanny_Writer
Summary: After an odd encounter with a certain boy, Wonwoo can't seem to get him out of his head.(Or the one where WonHui meet at IKEA)A Birthday Special--of sorts...





	Accessories (and Cute Boy) Not Included

An hour into the IKEA trip with Mingyu, and Wonwoo comes to regret his life choices. He leans against a bin full of rubber utensils and crosses his arms, sighing for the nth time today. Mingyu is standing a couple feet away, contemplating two cutting boards, one made of wood, the other plastic. He’s been staring at them for ten minutes, naming out pros and cons for both options. Just when Wonwoo thinks he’s decided, the slow-poke pulls it out of the cart and thinks it over. Wonwoo throws a brief glance at the set of measuring cups and rubber spatula laying at the bottom of the cart. Those took almost as much time to be considered worthy of Chef Mingyu. 

Ever since he’s taken that cooking class, Mingyu has gone through the tiny kitchenette at their apartment with a fine-toothed comb. He’s thrown out a bunch of plastic, takeout utensils, along with their collection of eclectic chipped bowls and plates. Hansol had to beg him to keep at least a pair when the poor boy had to eat his morning cereal out of a mug, slurping the mixture because all the utensils had been confiscated. Mingyu begrudgingly obliged, but insisted on going shopping for better ones that weekend. Not only were utensils and dishware on the list, he also plans on getting proper pots and pans, because “how else am I supposed to cook?”

Wonwoo tried to point out that the ones they already owned were perfectly fine, except for the lack of aesthetic appeal. But of course, that fell on deaf ears. Mingyu wants to spend his latest paycheck on kitchen implements. Wonwoo just wishes he could have skipped on the shopping trip, especially when he has an essay due in three days, and he hasn’t even started on an outline.

“Okay, let’s go grab some plates and bowls,” Mingyu suggests, placing the wooden cutting board into the cart. “The pans are over there, too.”

“Can you remind me why I’m here again,” Wonwoo asks, pushing the cart after his roommate toward the next aisle.

“Because you love me and want to spend as much time as you can with me?” the younger answers cheekily, flashing a grin over his shoulder. Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “Didn’t you say you wanted to look at the bookshelves? Or maybe that was Seungcheol.” He stops to let Wonwoo catch up. “Please don’t tell me I asked the wrong roommate to go with me.”

The older gives him a look and shakes his head in exasperation. “I did say that. I just wanted to make sure you remembered, because at the rate you’re going, they’re gonna close before we even make it out of the kitchen area.” 

Mingyu laughs. “Don’t exaggerate so much. It’s good to consider your options.”

Wonwoo doesn’t tell him that he’s not considering his options as much as he’s writing an entire essay on each article he picks up. Speaking of essays, Wonwoo wonders if he can formulate a coherent thesis right now, while he waits on Mingyu to pick which brand of pan is best. He rests his elbows on the shopping cart, mind wondering back to _The Iliad_ and _The Odyssey._ After a while, though, without the concrete ideas written out in front of his eyes, he manages to confuse all the characters up, and now he can’t remember what point he was trying to form.

Straightening his back out, he approaches Mingyu, avoiding getting smacked by the pans as the latter turns around. “I’m just gonna walk around the showrooms, okay?”

“Sure,” the taller one shrugs. “But first, which one?” He extends out the pans on each hand.

Since they look identical to Wonwoo, the latter just picks the one on the right at random. “That one.”

“Hm,” Chef Mingyu hums and turns it over.

Before he can ask for more input, Wonwoo escapes. “I’ll be over there.”

He makes his way through the crowd until he arrives at the office and bedroom areas of the showroom floor. After a few minutes examining the shelves and bookcases made for the office setting, nothing quite catches his eye, and he starts wandering around a bit. Across the path, he notices the “New Arrivals!” sign, and goes to check it out. 

Displayed across the large area are those huge, modern wardrobes that can store almost anything and everything, from shorts and t-shirts, to full on suits and accessories and shoes. Of course there’s no way one of those could fit into his tiny room, but he’s curious to examine one up close, nevertheless. He walks up to the one in the corner, since everyone seems to avoid it for some reason. Maybe because it’s an odd color of green. Wonwoo mentally shrugs, running his fingertips over the side panel idly. The shelves are the perfect size, the drawers smooth. The mechanism allows you to slam them without fearing the noise. 

He returns to the front and casually opens the doors. Only to jump back with a jerk, a startled cry stuck in his throat, as he stares at a boy with blond hair about his age inside the wardrobe. The weirdo is sitting in a tiny ball, arms wrapped around his knees. Weirdo he may be, but when he flicks his hair and glances up, Wonwoo sucks in a breath. Did he somehow stumble upon a magical wardrobe? One that instead of taking him to a fantasy land, brings him face to face with an otherworldly good-looking guy? The noise around them tells him no, he’s still standing in an IKEA showroom. There just happens to be an unfairly handsome guy sitting inside one of the pieces of furniture. For some reason… 

They’re just staring at each other for a few seconds, as Wonwoo’s brain kicks into gear to make sense of the situation and work on how to properly react.

“Uh.” At last, he manages to shake his head from the daze. “What are you doing?”

“Hiding,” the other answers right away, as if it’s obvious.

“Um… Okay…” 

He’s about to ask why and from what, but someone comes up to him and nudges his shoulder. “I thought you were looking for—Oh.” Mingyu blinks, scratching his brow with a hand as he notices the boy. “Hello,” he says with an awkward wave, lips straining to look both like a smile and a frown.

The boy grins sheepishly, and Wonwoo’s stomach starts filling up with butterflies. “Hi.” He throws a furtive glance around their legs. “You haven’t seen a guy with pink hair around, have you?”

“Uh… no,” Mingyu answers, looking over his shoulder. “Is that who you’re hiding from?”

The boy nods. “Yep.”

Mingyu makes one of those weird smile/frown expressions again as he contemplates what to say. After a second or two, he ventures, “Well, I guess we’ll leave you to it, then. Wouldn’t want to draw attention to you.” He’s already nudging Wonwoo away, but the latter doesn’t want to leave.

His feet stay stubbornly planted on the laminal flooring, eyes fixed on the blond. It doesn’t help his body functions any when the object of his current interest looks over, and their gazes lock. 

“What’s up?” Mingyu wonders, eyeing his roommate with slight apprehension. 

“Uh.” Wonwoo needs to come up with something fast, or both of them will think he’s a complete weirdo. He couldn’t give a fig about what the over-enthused chef thought, but the last thing he wants is to scare away  ~~ his growing crush ~~ the hot stranger. “I was just… I wanted to check out the wardrobe.”

“The wardrobe,” Mingyu repeats, voice rising with disbelief. He takes a closer look and finally notices the slight blush creeping over Wonwoo’s cheeks. Then it clicks into place. A sly grin spreads across his face. “Are you sure you want to check out the wardrobe?” he probes. “Because I'm sorry to break it to you, but I don’t think the cute guy is included.”

“What?” As if shocked my an electric current, Wonwoo snaps out of his reverie to stare at his friend. 

Inside the piece of furniture, the blond watches the exchange from under his lashes, too embarrassed to look directly at the brunet.

Wonwoo’s face is aflame. Now _he_ wants to hide in the nearest dresser. But before that, he’s going to disown Kim Mingyu and kick his ass. 

“Excuse us,” he mumbles in the blond’s general direction, careful not to make eye contact lest he combusts, as he grabs Mingyu’s upper arm and drags him away, hissing, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Putting up a half-assed attempt to seem innocent, the idiot shrugs. “Nothing. I was just commenting.”

Wonwoo growls, cutting his eyes away to heave an irritated sigh. “Whatever. Let’s just go.”

“Don’t you want to ask for his number?” Mingyu calls after him, too loud and too obnoxious to ignore among the chatters swirling around them. Wonwoo freezes as he sees the boy halt his effort to close the wardrobe door. He definitely heard Mingyu’s question, and he’s looking over here. _Oh my god, I’m going to murder my roommate._

In the midst of forming the best homicidal strategies to get rid of the grinning fool, an angry and exasperated voice cuts through the noise.

“Jun! There you are!” 

Wonwoo spins around in reflex to locate the source, seeing a short boy with pink hair marching toward their corner of the showroom with determination. He’s wearing a scowl, his hair ruffled from undoubtedly a fair amount of hair pulling in his search of his companion. Wonwoo follows his line of sight to note that Jun is in fact the boy in the wardrobe. _So he really was hiding from a guy with pink hair._

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you, you idiot?” Pink Hair demands as he stands in front of a pouting Jun.

“That’s kind of the point of hide and seek.”

The shorter one rolls his eyes. “We’re not here to play hide and seek! We’re here because you broke my bed, and you’re supposed to buy me a new one.”

As if finally noticing the audience around them, Jun whips his head to the side to address Wonwoo with panic. “That’s not what it sounds like!”

“What?” Pink Hair looks behind him and realizes Mingyu and Wonwoo are listening in, brows quirked questioningly. “Oh.” He shoots Jun a glance. “New friends of yours, I assume?”

“We just found him in there,” Mingyu chimes in, gesturing toward the furniture. 

“Lucky you,” Pink Hair snorts. Turning around, he grips Jun’s arm and yanks him out of his hiding place. Wonwoo is impressed. For a guy his size, he’s surprisingly strong. “Now come on, let’s go.”

“Wait!” Jun whines, arms flailing as he’s pulled forward. “You gotta explain, Jihoon!”

“Explain what?”

Not answering the question, Jun leans away from his companion’s unyielding grip to look back at Wonwoo, free hand waving exaggeratedly in the air. “I swear it wasn’t a sex thing!”

Wonwoo widens his eyes, while Mingyu bursts into a laughing fit, and Jihoon groans. Well, as awkward as the statement turned the mood, Wonwoo can’t say he’s not relieved to know that Jun and Jihoon aren’t together. He’s still kind of speechless, though. How do you even respond to that?

“No, it was a fucking Junhui thing,” Jihoon confirms with a glare at the blond. “There’s a reason parents tell you not to jump on beds, dumbass. You’re lucky you didn’t break your back.”

To his credit, Junhui does manage to look properly apologetic as he lowers his head. “I said I’m sorry, didn’t I?”

“Apologize with your wallet,” Jihoon shoots back, resuming his relentless attempt to tear Junhui’s arm out from its socket. “Let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

Wonwoo watches them leave the area, their hair colors making it quite easy to follow the pair as they make their way through the crowd. From his periphery, he senses Mingyu pushing the cart toward him, but he’s too distracted by part of the conversation that manages to reach his ears. It’s simple curiosity, not like he’s interested in Junhui and wants to hear his voice a little more. Not at all.

“I’m hungry. Can we stop for hot dogs and ice cream before we leave?”

“No.”

“Please, Jihoon?”

“I said no.”

“Pretty please?”

Jihoon looks over his shoulder to glower. But it’s no match for whatever face Junhui is making, because Wonwoo sees the shorter boy’s shoulders dropping and his face relaxing. Right before it hardens again. “Fine. But you better make it quick.”

Laughing contently, Junhui uses his free hand to ruffle the pink hair, much to the other’s annoyance. 

Wonwoo is ready to get back to his own shopping trip, but the pair—along with the few people around them—are momentarily stopped by a group of employees moving new furniture into the row.

“What are the odds that he doesn’t think I’m a weirdo?” Junhui wonders in a hushed voice.

That piques Wonwoo’s interest. If he were a cat, his ears would twitch. Subconsciously, he moves a little closer, hiding behind the large closets.

“Zero. You are a weirdo.”

Junhui makes a whining sound, pouting. 

“Why does it matter anyway?”

Shrugging, the blond chews on his lip nervously before saying. “Because he’s cute.”

Wonwoo thinks his knees are going to give out. Heat flushes from his chest to the tips of his ears. _He thinks I’m cute_. 

“So.” Mingyu’s sudden voice startles the lovestruck boy, and he shakes it out to feign composure. The taller male is grinning knowingly. “You didn’t get his number, but at least you know his name now. And that he thinks you’re cute, too.”

“Shut up.”

Ignoring the laughter echoing next to him, he shoves his roommate aside to take over the cart and push it forward, hoping the air conditioning will cool his cheeks. 

 

Much to Wonwoo’s relief, Mingyu manages to buy all the items on his list with relative speed. That alone is enough to celebrate, but in addition, Wonwoo actually got around to buying a new bookcase. The experience almost makes up for his encounter with Junhui earlier in the day. He can’t bring himself to decide whether it was a blessing or a curse.

On the one hand, it’s not everyday he gets to run into an extremely hot dork (who also happens to think he’s cute). But on the other, he’ll probably never be able to get Junhui’s perfect face out of his system for as long as he shall live. It’s like that whole ‘is it better to know love and lose it, or never falling in love in the first place?” debacle. Which is, admittedly, really dumb. It’s just one guy, one encounter. Wonwoo isn’t going to lose his head obsessing over it like some lovesick teenager. Nope. He is a high-functioning adult who has better things to think about than a stupid crush. Like the damn essay he’s been neglecting for the sake of re-reading the entire Harry Potter series and battling Hansol in a Nerf war.

While Mingyu chats with the cashier, Wonwoo conjures up reasons why Agamemnon is an ass, and how Achilles is completely justified in his tantrum. Unfortunately, his brain does not agree with that plan of action. It keeps bringing up flashes of a certain blond curled up inside a modern wardrobe, smiling shyly at him from under thick lashes.

Violently shaking his head to clear it, he blinks to see that the card transition is over. Mingyu has already grabbed the oversized pillow he’s splurged on and thrown it into the cart with the rest of his stuff. Thankfully, Wonwoo manages to school his expressions before Mingyu notices, and starts to push the cart as something for him to do. 

The boys head for the lobby, pausing occasionally for the customers with larger cargo to move first. MIngyu is digging for his car keys, chattering about one thing or another, when a second set of voices cuts through Wonwoo’s hearing. 

“Don’t be so stubborn. You know we can’t carry this much stuff on the bus.”

“Yes, we can,” the other insists. “I’m not going to pay even more money for delivery when we have four perfectly good arms.”

Wonwoo slowly turns around, already wondering if he’s finally lost his mind and hallucinating. Fortunately, his mental health is not failing him. Junhui and Jihoon are in fact standing by the customer service counter, right by the panel that details the delivery fees. There’s a shopping cart in between them, with less of a mountain of stuff than Mingyu’s, but enough that it would cause some issues if they were to try to use public transportation.

“Then I’ll pay!” Junhui volunteers. 

Jihoon doesn’t budge. “No. I don’t care whose money it is. It’s not necessary. Besides, if you go broke, I’m gonna have to be the one to pay for your food. So once again,” he leans in close to jab a finger against his friend’s chest. “ _No._ ”

The taller male makes a face, pursing his lip. “We’ll never make it back to campus,” he mutters.

Campus? Wonwoo wonders if the pair go to his college. Before he can even think of the repercussions, he rotates the cart around and heads toward the customer services, cutting Mingyu off in the middle of his lecture between ceramic and glass cooking ware.

The sound of the rolling wheels on the shiny laminal floor draws the attention of the bickering couple, and they look over to see Wonwoo. Junhui blinks, but very soon his expression brightens, and Wonwoo almost forgets how to speak.

“Hey,” he breathes out, lips pulling into a small grin.

Junhui reciprocates with a shy one. “Hello, again.”

Standing in between them, Jihoon’s face contorts into a grimace as his eyes dart from one idiot to the other. “What do you want?”

The curt question feels like a snapped elastic against his skin, and Wonwoo clears his throat. “I overheard you guys talking earlier, and I was wondering if you went to our school.”

Mingyu chooses that exact moment to make an appearance. He stares at the little group with somewhat of a confused expression. “You guys go to our school?”

Jihoon examines the new arrivals with wariness, wondering when it suddenly turned into a meeting for giants with him in the middle. Maybe that’s what causes his tone to be more caustic than usual. “Well, considering there’s only one university within a twenty mile radius, I’d say it’s more than likely.”

Wonwoo is a little unnerved by the hostility, but he goes on anyway, because apparently the opportunity to stay longer in Junhui’s proximity is worth getting chewed out by his angry friend. “We can give you a ride back to campus, then.”

“Huh?” Mingyu exclaims, but when Wonwoo shoots him a look, his confusion turns into willingness. “I mean, yeah, sure.”

While Jihoon heaves a sigh and rolls his eyes, Junhui chews on his bottom lip. Wonwoo can sense hesitation, probably from not wanting to impose, but also not wanting to take the bus. The blond turns to his left.

“What do you think, Jihoon?” he asks softly.

A shrug follows a small hand rubbing over a pale face. “Whatever. Sure.” Then he mutters under his breath, “I’ll never hear the end of it otherwise.”

Junhui either doesn’t hear the snark, or he purposely ignores it as he beams at Wonwoo. “Thank you! I’ll be sure to repay you for this!” 

“ _Ask him out,”_ Mingyu coughs exaggeratedly into his fist. Wonwoo turns to glare at his roommate, but the latter continues the horrible acting job, coughing a few more times before grinning like the fool that he is. “Sorry, just got something stuck in my throat.”

“Are you okay?” Junhui asks, thankfully oblivious to Mingyu’s stunt, while Jihoon looks two seconds from abandoning them behind and taking the bus by himself.

“Oh, yeah, totally. Let’s head to the car.” Wonwoo's shitty roommate spins on his heels and starts walking toward the exit, spinning the keyring around his finger. The third year grins in satisfaction when the keys barely make a full revolution before they fly off. “Crap!” Mingyu dives for them right before a woman pushing a cart with twin mattresses can crush them.

Even as excitement swirls in his belly, Wonwoo’s too scared to actually walk beside Junhui. What if he starts talking or something? To minimize the risks of turning himself into a fool, he trails a few feet ahead of the pair, pushing the cart through the parking lot behind Mingyu.

By the car, Junhui and Jihoon stand aside to let the owner of the car fill the trunk first. Wonwoo is very thankful for the large trunk, as he steps out of the way for the second cart’s contents to be stuffed in. Once they return the carts, the boys pile into the vehicle.

During the ride, Wonwoo learns that Junhui is into musical theater, while Jihoon majors in music composition. The two live with another roommate, who’s a dance major. Despite the initial meeting, the four get along surprisingly well, discussing various topics ranging from classes to personal experiences with the horrors that come with communal laundry machines and previous bad roommates. They even find out that they share a few overlapping classes.

But the most surprising tidbit of all is the location of their housing. Mainly, when Mingyu drives through the school’s gate and asks where Junhui lives, they come to realize that they live in the same building, just on different floors and wings.

“That’s a crazy coincidence!” Junhui exclaims with mirth. “Funny how we’ve been living there for almost a year now and never ran into each other.”

Smirking, Mingyu glances from the rearview mirror where he can see Junhui smiling innocently, then switches his focus to his roommate who’s doing a very poor job at concealing the matching grin. “I’m pretty sure you’ll see Wonwoo a lot more now that that piece of information is known.”

Wonwoo smacks Mingyu’s shoulder. Hard. The other grits his teeth and pretends it didn’t hurt. The blushing mess doesn’t stop glaring at the self-proclaimed chef until he hears Junhui’s gentle voice.

“That’d be nice.” It’s so soft, he almost misses it when Mingyu drives over a pothole and the car jostles.

Wonwoo is very grateful that Junhui can’t see his face. From the soreness in his cheeks, though, he can take a pretty good guess at how he looks at the moment.

Eventually, they arrive at the parking lot, and the boys get out of the car to retrieve their respective loot. The arts majors thank them once again, and Wonwoo watches them carry the many items into the lobby of the C wing. Before he completely disappears from view, though, Junhui turns around and waves back, tiny smile dancing on his lips. Wonwoo reciprocates automatically, a fuzzy feeling blooming inside his chest.

Maybe going to IKEA with Mingyu wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

 

____________________________

 

Exactly three days after his strange but eventful trip to IKEA, a knock comes at the door. Wonwoo pauses his reading and glances up toward the source. He blinks a few times to adjust his vision from the strain his eyes had to go through reading the minuscule ten sized font. In the few seconds it takes him to stand up and go answer, he goes through the few options of the unexpected visit. It’s early afternoon on a Wednesday, so no floor meeting. His roommates would have keys, rendering the knocking needles. Forgetful Hansol would have texted him to know if he were home before showing up at the door empty-handed. 

Wonwoo can’t think of anyone else, so he mentally shrugs and swings the heavy door open.

For the second time in a week, he comes face to face with a mop of soft blond hair and doe eyes. This time, though, Junhui is standing before him instead of curled up into a ball. But when the same sheepish smile appears again, Wonwoo clenches the knob on his side of the apartment.

“Hey,” Junhui greets. 

“Hi.” _Did he stand up too fast? Why is he lightheaded?_ “What’s up?” he feigns casualness.

“So I never got the chance to thank you guys for the lift,” Junhui starts, fidgeting with something from his back pocket. Presenting the small stack of papers toward Wonwoo, he goes on, “I worked for them last quarter, and they have really good ice cream.” Wonwoo reaches forward to grab the coupons, pale fingers accidentally brushing against the tan ones. They both pull their hands back, averting their gazes as matching blushes spreads across their cheeks.

“Thanks,” Wonwoo mumbles, clearing his throat, and pretends to read the words. “This is great.”

Junhui beams, and the other thinks he might go blind. “There’s no expiration date, so you and Mingyu can go whenever.” 

Wonwoo can blame the impulse on a number of things: procrastination, a craving for something sweet, boredom. But if he’s honest with himself, he’ll blame his treacherous heart for reacting to Wen Junhui’s dazzling grin and gentle gaze. 

“How about now?” he blurts out, surprising his companion for a moment. 

Thick lashes flutter as the latter blinks. “You want to go now?”

“Sure,” he shrugs, already leaning back to grab his keys sitting by the small shelf next to him. “Let’s go.”

Junhui is forced to take a few steps backward when Wonwoo walks out into the hallway and closes the door. “You want me to come with you?”

Logic and self-doubts slither in, and he throws Junhui a furtive glance. “Do you want to?”

A smal nod accompanies a shy laugh. “I’d love to.” 

 

On their way to the shop, they note the presence of the rows of kiosks on Library Walk. A few times a year, the school lets various outside vendors set up booths sort of like a flea market in the center of the school. Wonwoo has always walked by them but never stopped by, figuring everything was overpriced. He also could survive without getting squished by the crowds.

But Junhui seems ecstatic about it. His face lights up with excitement as he glimpses at the different food stalls and the knickknacks spread out on long tables. Wonwoo isn’t sure what they’re selling, since his attention has turned exclusively on the boy walking next to him, all but buzzing with joy. It’s cute, he thinks, cracking a small smile. 

“Do you want to go check it out?” he asks.

Junhui turns around. “Don’t you want to get ice cream?”

“We can come back after we order,” he suggests, and he receives a brilliant grin.

“Okay!”

So once they grab their cones, the boys head back to Library walk, starting from the very first stall and slowly making their way up the path toward the main library. Surprising, there’s a lot of people selling clothes, which they politely decline to check out when a man with a funny mustache comes to ‘assist' them (Wonwoo is convinced the guy was just trying to make sure they wouldn’t steal anything. As if anyone would want to steal neon pink tights with green frogs on them). They pause by a kiosk displaying sunglasses, fashionable styles as well as ridiculous ones. Junhui completely overlooks the elegant frames to pick up a hideous pair that looks like it’s been fished out of the reject pile. Laughing like a little kid, he tries them on and turns to Wonwoo.

“Do I look handsome, or do I look handsome?” he asks with a straight face, which only succeeds to make Wonwoo to crack up.

Seeming proud, Junhui pulls the glasses off and chuckles quietly, turning to the others. He chooses an equally ghastly frame, and sets them on his companion’s nose. The latter shakes his head when he catches his reflection in the nearby mirrors, but he lets Junhui continue to fix them, quickly running his fingers through his bangs to comb the hair away from his eyes. Wonwoo presses his lips together to stop himself from potentially letting out an embarrassing squeal.

“Perfect,” Junhui asses, then proceeds to put the first sunglasses back onto his own face. He tugs Wonwoo close to him with a hand on his wrist, while the other pulls out his phone.

They’re very close. So close, their hair brushes against each other’s as Junhui fidgets with the apps. The butterflies in Wonwoo’s stomach make a sudden appearance, and he tries to take in steady breaths to calm down. Completely oblivious to his internal turmoil, Junhui wraps an arm around his shoulder to rest the side of his head against Wonwoo’s. The latter is ready explode.

“Say cheese!”

When Junhui pulls the phone down to check the shot, he giggles, which does not help Wonwoo any. They’re still standing too close. The blond’s shoulder is searing through his short sleeve and burns his skin. Wonwoo presses closer, using the excuse of the sun’s glare against the screen, to take a better look. The couple grinning back at him with ugly sunglasses look ridiculous, and yet he can’t help laughing. 

Eventually, they return the sunglasses, deciding they were too wild even for them to keep. When they get to the hat section of another stall, though, they do end up buying a couple. And it’s just by coincidence that they happen to match. Wonwoo wears it with secret satisfaction as he walks along with Junhui to the next several vendors.

Toward the end of their afternoon stroll, Junhui pulls him into a booth selling miniature potted plants. They have sorts of blooming flowers and succulents. All tiny. 

“They’re so small!” the blond exclaims, giggling as he points at the different types. “Have you ever seen anything cuter?” 

_Yeah, I’m staring at him right now_. 

“Do kittens count?” he says out loud, making Junhui laugh again.

He offers Wonwoo a brief glance, before resuming cooing at the plants. The latter follows along, reading the little notes that accompany each species, watching Junhui chat excitedly with the saleslady. The thrilled bundle of nerves seems particularly interested in the hanging glass bowls that house different types of succulents.

“Why don’t you buy one?” Wonwoo wonders, coming up to him as he gazes at one.

“I would if they weren’t so large,” he says, and Wonwoo has to concede that their sizes are a little overwhelming. “If they had one about the size of a baseball, it’d be perfect. I could hang it in my room, by the window.” He smiles. “Oh well, let’s keep going. I think I saw another kiosk with weird clothes over there.”

Before Wonwoo comes up with something to say, his memory is wiped clean by Junhui’s warm fingers finding his. The blond isn’t aware of the effect he’s having on poor Wonwoo as he grips his hand tighter and tugs him forward, talking a mile a minute about one thing or another. Wonwoo’s long stopped trying to compute the words; he’s too distracted by the softness around his fingers, and its owner’s musical voice.

At the end of the day, he returns to his dorm with many good things, including a full belly (they went for pizza), a hat (that so happens to match with a certain blond’s), a large collection of selfies that look too much like couple shots (not that he minds), and a phone number (“I’ll text the pictures to you!”). 

He feels pretty good about himself and everything he’s managed to accomplish today. Not even the fact he’s behind schedule on the reading for his lit class can bring him down.

And yet, his roommates manage to do just that when they return to the apartment a little after he does, and catches him going through the selfies.

“Whoa, congrats, man!” Hansol says, looking over Mingyu’s shoulder at the pictures as the giant snickers and flips through them.

Wonwoo vows to find some way to take revenge. Like switching his shampoo with mayonnaise. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh that much,” Seungcheol comments from Mingyu’s other side, eyes glued to the pictures. 

“You should’ve seen him in the car when I drove them back,” the second year responds.

“Oh,” Hansol nods, “So that’s the guy you found at IKEA. Small world!”

“Nice looking kid,” the oldest adds, patting Wonwoo’s shoulder as he leaves to head for the kitchen. “You should call him over one day.”

Wonwoo arches a brow, splitting his attention between the idiots still snickering at his phone and Seungcheol in the other room. “Why?”

“I wanna meet him.”

Rolling his eyes, he decides enough is enough and stands up to snatch his phone back. “We’re not dating. Besides, since when did you become my dad?”

Seungcheol’s chuckles echo from the kitchen. “Don’t I deserve the title after looking after you kids for the past four years?”

Wonwoo decides not reply, because he knows Seungcheol is right. He might only be a year older, but he’s been more like a father figure to him and the others. Secretly, he thinks it won’t be such a bad thing for him to meet Junhui. Later. Once he figures out what to do with all of these feelings.

“By the way,” Mingyu casually says as he opens up his laptop at the kitchen counter. “I saw Jihoon and their third roommate today.”

“In class?”

Mingyu nods, fingers clacking on the keyboard. “Before you try to kill me in my sleep tonight,” he says, “You should know that I hold a vital piece of information and reconsider.”

Wonwoo isn’t going to rise to the bait. He rolls his eyes instead, settling into the couch and picking up his abandoned book. 

“Don’t you want to know?” the second year wonders, eyes drifting from the screen for a moment to locate Wonwoo’s new position.

“Nope.”

“Come on!” he whines. “It’s not fun if you’re not even a little bit curious.” He’s met with silence. “Fine, then I’ll show up to Junhui’s birthday by myself,” he says flippantly.

Wonwoo’s stomach drops. He jerks his head toward the counter. “What?”

A sly smile appears on the devious second year. “Uh huh…”

“When is it?”

“I’m not gonna give it away.”

Narrowing his eyes, Wonwoo states, “If you don’t, I’m gonna tell Minghao about your ginormous crush on him tomorrow.”

“No!” the giant puppy shrieks. “You can _never_ tell him that! Then he’ll never let me sit with him anymore.”

“Then spill, lover-boy.”

Mingyu groans and pouts, muttering something under his breath that Wonwoo doesn’t care enough to find out. “It’s in two weeks. June 10th.” 

_Two weeks._ Two weeks to find the perfect gift. He guesses Mingyu deserves a break after all, and decides to save the shampoo-mayo switch for his next offense.

 

____________________________

 

“Now, aren’t you glad I bought all of these cooking and baking wares?” Mingyu asks smugly from Wonwoo’s left, pulling out a baking sheet with divots to make cupcakes. 

Wonwoo grunts out a noncommittal noise, focusing on mixing up the batter with the newly bought electric eggbeater. 

Even as he’s working, he can’t believe he let himself be persuaded into baking Junhui birthday cupcakes. Wonwoo’s initial plan had been quite simple. A few days after finding out the birthday date, he’s gone around town to search for hanging succulent bowls of appropriate size and monetary value. It’s taken him about a week, on and off, to determine that none of the ones ready to buy fit his mental visions. Of course, it could have gone a little faster if he didn’t spend most of his free time with a certain blond, but that’s besides the point. In the end, he set out to procure the individual elements and gone home to put everything together. Since then, he’s hung the little glass sphere over the kitchen window where there was the most sunlight, watering it accordingly until he can give it to Junhui.

Everything was fine until Hansol and Mingyu had to make a comment about it.

“You’re going to give cactus?” Hansol asks, staring at the tiny leaves through the glass. “That’s it?”

“It’s what he wants.”

“But it’s kinda…” Mingyu makes a face. “What if he thinks you think he’s prickly?”

“What?” That’s ridiculous. Not even deserving of an answer.

“Doesn’t Junhui like food?” Hansol wonders aloud. “He’s always buying snacks at the corner market.”

“Oh, I know!” Mingyu shoots his arm in the air as if they’re still in high school. “You should bake him something!” When Wonwoo groans, Chef Mingyu butters him up. “Come on, it’s easy! I’ll help. We don’t even have to do it from scratch. We can just buy the cake mix. Those are foolproof!”

And that’s how Wonwoo finds himself roped into a night of baking with his roommate on the eve of Junhui’s birthday. 

Turning off the eggbeater, he presses the button to release the prongs out of the sockets. He cradles a hand under the dripping batter and quickly drops the metal sticks into the sink. 

“Now what?”

“We’re basically done. You just gotta pre-heat the oven, and while that’s going, put the paper cups into the baking sheet, then scoop the batter into each divot. Easy.” A phone goes off, and Mingyu pats his jeans. “Sorry, I’ll be back.”

Wonwoo nods and waves him off, taking over the kitchen. He picks up the box and scans over the instructions one more time, looking for the temperature: 375. Once he sets the oven to pre-heat, he starts to follow Mingyu’s instructions. By the time his roommate comes back, he’s just slid the tray into the burning inferno.

“Can you check the time for me.”

Mingyu leans over the counter to grab the box. “Thirty-five minutes.”

The boys occupy themselves while the cupcakes bake. Wonwoo goes to fetch a gift bag with the stack of tissue paper that came with it, some tape, a roll of ribbons, and a pair of scissors. He kneels on the floor by the coffee table, loot unloaded in front of him. He’s managed to open the paper bag, but now he’s looking at the tissue paper with apprehension. How is he supposed to make it fluffy? _Well, here goes nothing_. Wracking his memory for all of the gift bags he’s received, he imitates the way the paper had looked then, crippling the corners just enough to create volume. When it looks somewhat decent, he goes to retrieve the small glass bowl and gently places it inside among the paper to cushion it. Then on top he adds more crippled paper, along with the ribbon, which he just presses along the edge of the scissors to make it curl.

“Impressive,” Mingyu comments genuinely. “Came out better than I thought it would.”

“Thanks.” He sets it back onto the table. 

Gradually, as the minutes on the clock tick by, a very strong burning smell drifts around the apartment. Sniffing, Mingyu turns slowly toward him. “Did you set the correct temperature?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo answers right away, although now there’s doubt weighing down his guts. “It says 375 degrees.”

Mingyu’s eyes bulge out of their sockets as he propels himself away from the couch. “That’s 375 degrees  _Fahrenheit_. Our oven uses Celsius!”

“What!”

They race toward the oven, which by now is billowing out worrisome black smoke. Mingyu hits the OFF button while Wonwoo wrenches the oven door open. A cloud of smoke rushes out at them. Coughing, they scramble to open all the windows they can reach, as well as turn on the hood. But it was too late. The fire alarm goes off.

“Shit.”

Wonwoo feels like slamming his head against the wall. 

“What the hell is going on?” Seungcheol bursts out of the bathroom, hair dripping wet, still struggling to pull his clothes through his arms and legs at the same time.

“Why does it smell—” Hansol runs out of his room, headphones sitting askew over his hair. He coughs a few times. “Oh, damn.”

With shame washing over him, Wonwoo makes his way out into the hallway, where he runs into angry and exhausted students, some rudely yanked out of sleep. The throng of students make their way down the hall, finding their RAs and following them down to the Quad for roll call. Wonwoo wants to die.

The rest of the night is sort of a blur because he’s trying very hard to forget the whole thing ever happened. He keeps his brain working at a minimum so that he can raise his hand when the RA calls out his name. As soon as that task is taken care of, he slinks away toward the grass and drops down to sit on the ledge, pulling his legs to his chest. Everything is loud: the students, the staff, the fire department. _Ughugghhgh._

He has his face buried in his arms when he feels a presence approaching him. 

He doesn’t look up until the person nudges his shoulder gently and says, “Wonwoo, are you okay?”

The speed at which he snaps his neck should be enough to severe it. By some miracle, it remains intact, and he’s able to stare at Junhui’s concerned expression. 

The blond’s sitting position mirrors his, and he has his head inclined to gaze at Wonwoo, a small crease forming between elegant brows.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” _now with you here_ , he adds in his mind. But then he backpedals. He can’t believe he forgot Junhui lives in the same building. He wants to smack himself. “Are you? Did the fire alarm wake you up or…?”

Junhui smiles gently. “No, I was still awake, doing Chem homework,” he chuckles. Someone walking by distracts him for a moment as he glances up reflexively. Wonwoo takes the time to stare at him without an ounce of shame, tracing the contours of his face with his gaze, stopping by the splash of freckles, lingering over the shape of his lips. They look soft, plump and pink. _Kissable_.

With a start, Wonwoo shakes his head at the thought. He needs to stop before his mind goes farther than kissing. He shouldn’t even be thinking about kissing Junhui in the first place.

“I wonder what happened,” Junhui soft inquiry interrupts his thoughts. The blond is staring at him now, and his mouth runs dry.

He tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. “Uh… I might… have an idea.”

“You do?” Pure curiosity flitters across his expression.

“Yeah…” With a groan, he rubs his hands over his face. “It was my fault.” Junhui’s eyes turn round, but he doesn’t probe. Wonwoo continues painstakingly. “I was trying to bake, but I mixed up Celsius and Fahrenheit. And well… that happened.” He waves a hand weakly toward their building.

“Did you get hurt?” Junhui asks right away, eyes quickly scanning Wonwoo’s face and arms, hands releasing his own knees to peer over at the brunet.

The care and worry touch the latter, and he feels even more guilty. “I’m fine. There was just a lot of smoke.” He offers a small smile.

That seems to reassure Junhui, because his shoulders relax. “I’m glad. Did anything else get damaged?”

“Just the cupcakes.”

“Aw,” Junhui makes a cute sound as he bumps their shoulders together again. “I’ll bake you some next time.”

Wonwoo arches a brow. “You bake?”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” he laughs self-consciously. “I can’t do anything fancy. But I promise they won’t be burnt.”

They laugh.

Then Wonwoo gathers his courage, heaving a sigh to expel the nervous butterflies. “Thank you, but I was actually planning on giving them to you.”

“To me?” Plain surprise, but with contentment, flashes across his face.

Rubbing his neck, Wonwoo nods. “As a birthday present.” _Oh geez. His face must be so red right now_.

“Wow!” Junhui blinks, an excited grin on his face. “I didn’t know you knew,” he giggles. “But it’s okay, it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Appreciative, Wonwoo cracks a smile. “I wanted to do more than think about you, though—I mean, uh…” Heat rushes to his cheeks, and he buries his face behind his hands. “Never mind. Forget I said anything,” he mumbles behind his palms.

There’s a giggle, and he peeks. Junhui grins innocently at him. “You don’t have to feel bad. A lot of times lately, I find myself thinking about a certain boy, too.” Wonwoo’s fingers move a little father apart. “He can be sarcastic and tells horrible jokes, but he’s sweet and patient. He loves to read and talks to me all the time, even when I babble or do something stupid.” There’s definitely a blush covering Junhui’s cheeks now as he shyly turns his focus away. 

Wonwoo drops his hands from his face and reaches over to slip one under Junhui’s. The latter faces his neighbor again, but quickly drops his gaze to their hands, watching Wonwoo squeeze it once before tangling their fingers together. A dazzling smile blooms on his face, mirroring Wonwoo’s.

From anyone else’s view, they must look like two idiots grinning stupidly at each other with rosy cheeks despite the warm weather. But Wonwoo doesn’t care. His heart is soaring, and he almost forgets about the reason why they’re sitting out in the courtyard in the middle of the night.

Almost.

A shout pierces through the night, silencing the chatter. Effectively breaking the moment between them. It’s one of the staff, giving them the okay to return to their dorms. He pulls Junhui up by their joined hands and refuses to let go even as they start to file back toward the building.

“Do you want swing by my place for a second,” he asks. “The cupcakes weren’t my first idea for a gift.”

Junhui offers a smile and nods. “Okay. Although you really didn’t have to,” he adds as they get to the stairs. 

“I wanted to.”

Before long, they make it to Wonwoo’s floor. His roommates have already gotten back in, apparently, because he can hear their voices indistinctly inside, and the door is left ajar.

“Wait right here,” he instructs, sliding his hand out of Junhui’s hold with reluctance to guide him by the shoulders. “It’s not that I don’t want to invite you in, but my roommates are here, and they’re nosy, and—” He stops when Junhui laughs, airy and cute. 

“It’s fine. I’ll be here.”

Wonwoo lets out a shaky laugh and nods. “Alright.”

He opens the door and zooms in, ignoring all attempts at conversation from the other three as he grabs the gift bag on the table and runs back out. The whole thing takes less than ten seconds, much to his surprise. He’s in such a hurry, he doesn’t see the amused and peculiar looks his roommates throw his way. Neither does he suspect just how nosy they can be as they slither close to the door.

“Happy birthday!” Wonwoo cheers in a small voice, a little breathless from excitement and the sprint.

Breaking out into a delighted grin, Junhui laughs quietly as he takes the gift. “Thank you!”

“You haven’t even opened it yet.” The birthday boy glimpses at him briefly then carefully starts to unravel the tissue paper. “I hope you’ll like it,” Wonwoo says, nervousness making his voice tremble.

There’s a soft clinking sound when Junhui nail hits the glass, and his eyes widen as he pulls it out. “Oh my god, Wonwoo!” he exclaims, holding it in the palm of his hands, cradling it like if it were something precious and fragile. “It’s beautiful!” 

All the trouble—the hunt for the glass bowl, the plants, the baking, the near fire—all of it was worth it just to see that expression of sheer joy and elation. His heart tightens as he watches Junhui gaze at the plants with fondness, a finger poking out to nudge the small leaves. He wishes he could capture this moment forever. With a start, he figures that he can.

While Junhui is still absorbed in his gift, Wonwoo sneakily pulls out his phone and snaps a picture. The small noise of the shutter prompts the birthday boy to glance up in surprise. But he quickly chuckles when he realizes what happened.

“Come here.” Tugging Wonwoo by the hand, he moves them side by side, pressing their cheeks together as he pulls out his phone and aims.

Wonwoo wraps his arm around Junhui’s waist and looks toward the phone. The corners of his lips naturally tug upward in a happy smile. Junhui taps the icon. 

Joy seeping through his actions, Junhui pulls his arm back to study the shot. Wonwoo snakes his arms around the waist and rests his chin on the other’s strong shoulder. He squeezes him, eliciting a giggle from the blond. 

“Thank you,” Junhui says, voice right by Wonwoo’s ear. He can feel the blush creeping up again, and he straightens up. Junhui carefully places the glass bowl into the bag and holds it by the handles. “I really love it.”

“I’m glad,” Wonwoo replies, timidly glimpsing at the other.

Junhui bites his lip, not doing much of a better job at acting casual. 

Suddenly, the quiet hallway is disturbed by a voice hollering from inside the apartment, “But do you love him?” 

An icy chill runs down his spine. Wonwoo conjures up all the frustration into his voice to dispel the embarrassment tainting his cheeks. “Hey! No one asked you!” His threatening tone evokes a series of laughter and wolf whistles. 

“Say yes, Junnie!” comes the next unsolicited comment from his roommates.

“Would you shut up!” he shouts, which only causes more laughter to erupt.

When he looks back at Junhui, the latter is trying very hard to keep a wide grin from breaking across his face. He tugs on that pink bottom lip again, and Wonwoo forces himself to tear his gaze away.

“Yes,” comes the soft answer.

With wide eyes, Wonwoo spins around. Blood is rushing through his vessels; his heart is pumping too fast. Junhui isn’t looking at him, but he’s blushing so hard, he’s practically glowing. “Jun?”

“Would that be okay?” 

His voice is so small and timid, Wonwoo can’t help himself from reaching forward and taking his hand into his. It's funny how everything just stops. Calmness lightly envelopes him, and he can actually breathe. He gently squeezes the warm hand, prompting the other to look up into his eyes. He offers a gentle smile, which the other reciprocates. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

A breathy laugh and a nod are given. “Do you want to come over tomorrow? There’ll be cake.”

Wonwoo chuckles. “You don’t have to bribe me with cake,” he says, stroking Junhui’s cheek. “I was done for the moment I opened that wardrobe.”

At the memory, they both laugh. “It was quite an interesting first encounter.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But I’m glad I didn’t have to buy it to get the surprise inside.”

Junhui rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. 

When they lean forward, and Wonwoo finds Junhui’s lips, he’s surprised to know that they taste even better than he imagined. He lingers a bit longer than what is probably appropriate for a first kiss, but he can’t help it. Junhui’s lips are addictive, and he’s not ready to quit any time soon. 

Eventually, though, they part and press their foreheads together, smiling at each other tenderly. Wonwoo squeezes Junhui’s hand. 

“Happy birthday.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Happy JUNday! (No, i will not shut up about it) XD. I'm sorry that it came out late, although it's actually earlier than i expected... which was to finish tomorrow... but Jun deserves the best, so i whipped myself into gear. I hope you liked it, even though there was no real plot, just fluff. (It came out a lot longer than I planned. Oh well, that's the power of WonHui, I guess...)
> 
> If it's still the 10th (or 9th in my case), have a great Jun Day!  
> <3
> 
> Thank you for reading! (^.^)


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